Believe it or not, but this is my first reread for what must closing on three years now. Back then I nearly didn’t do anything but crack open books that had proved their worth, but suddenly I discovered that there actually existed other (and more interesting!) books then the ones found in my local library. Yeah, I know it sounds foolish, but I was only fourteen at the time and this literary addiction of mine hadn’t fully fastened its poetic hands around my neck. It has now, though, so the question of interest is really why “The Blade Itself” should warrant a second going-over, especially since I didn’t like it that much the first time I read it.
Heh, well…
(This next part is going to be quite long and has little to do with the book review itself. Feel free to skip on down below the picture if you want to read my current thoughts on the book.)
When I first read it, I had only just finished Lynch’s “The Lies of Locke Lamora”, and I guess I expected “The Blade Itself” to dazzle me both in equal measure and in form. The result? I thought that tBI was one of the most over-hyped and poorly written fantasies I’ve had the misfortune of reading, and I could not believe why everyone was loving this trite bullsh*t. I would’ve most certainly have written a long-winded rant on the subject if I was blogging at the time. Fortunately I wasn’t…
Anyways, this Joe Abercrombie chap has been bothering me ever since. Every time I browse forums, I see people whose opinion I respect are bowing in awe of his work, calling it all kinds of pretty words and flinging superlatives at him like so many pieces of candy. Joe is even something of a regular over at Westeros, my favourite message board, and I was adamant about disliking him as a person, too (the lack of logic here being that Bad Books are written by Bad People). At first I was quite pleased to discover that he was a pompous ass, just like I expected! But then I found myself snickering every time I read a comment by him (the horror!) and subconsciously browsing the topics he frequented most often. Then I began reading his blog, and suddenly I realized that though Joe Abercrombie is a without doubt a pompous ass, he’s also one of the funniest, most poignant and sweetly sarcastic rear-ends I’ve encountered. He is my idol - a superman version of what I strive to be - and I hated his first novel! This cannot be, I said to myself, because I was obviously hating myself by extension. Something needed to be done, and mightily quick, too!
So I reread “The Blade Itself” to better learn to love myself. That’s a horribly selfish thing to do, you might say, and you would be in the right. It was selfish and also a tad pompous, but somehow I believe that Joe Abercrombie would approve of it nonetheless.

The best way to describe “The Blade Itself” is to first conjure up a list of nearly every possible cliché imaginable. You’ve got the big barbarian who’s virtually unstoppable in a fight, a tortured torturer teeming with bitter malice, a master swordsman, beautiful princesses and a wise & powerful wizard who drives the plot forward as he pleases. Oh, and don’t forget that a there are several dark lords looming around in nearly every direction. Yes, it all sounds quite familiar on the surface, but in the murky ponds beneath writhes the juicy stuff that I neglected to see on my first visit to Abercrombie’s world. The author takes these trappings and subverts them, thus making it a unpredictable, if not very original ride.
Logen Ninefingers, the gruesome barbarian, is a thoughtful and ponderous character that only strives to stay alive, not slay an x amount of dark beings. Sand dan Glokta, the crippled torturer, is a haunted man far fallen from his former glory. Bayaz, the sage wizard, takes your glossy mental pictures of Gandalf and shatters them beyond recognition. At one point he even kills someone while he’s in the nude. I can’t even imagine Gandalf nude, much less having him fight in anything but fully garmented.
Abercrombie is obviously very skilled at characterization. Every single one of his cast are worth the time they’re given, though I must say that I enjoyed reading about Logen (reminded me of Steven Erikson’s “Karsa Orlong”) and Jezal (who is the only main character I can think of that is intentionally written like a first-class jerk) the most. Some of the characters suffered a bit from being repetitive. Especially Glokta - though otherwise wonderful - and Ferro Maljinn often used the same “catch phrases” so often that what was originally quite amusing quickly became te-he-rribly tedious. Yeah, we get it, Ferro really does hate everything and everyone. You don’t have to repeat it to the point that we begin to hate her for being that way.
“The Blade Itself” is in every way a first novel of a trilogy, and the plot suffers for it. Abercrombie has a lot characters he wants us to get acquainted with, so he spends a lot of time in building their relations and setting up the dilemmas that will be solved in book 2, “Before They Are Hanged” and the much hyped third installment, “Last Argument of Kings”. It’s almost as if this first book is one long inhalation, though you know that when the air starts gushing it out, it’ll probably blow away.
The other things that this book does really well is dialog. I love good dialog, and if a book has it I’m willing to let whole continents of other criticisms slide. John Scalzi is one of my favourite writers of dialog, Scott Lynch an other, but Abercrombie isn’t far behind either of them. Glokta’s inner dialog is probably the best part of the it all, though. I’ve never read anything quite like it.
This book review has already gone on too long, so I’ll try to wrap things up in usual fashion. “The Blade Itself” is a gritty first novel that brings with it some truly memorable characters, intrigue and a lot of grin-worthy witticisms. It’s goal is not innovate, but to tell a good story that will both surprise and shock you; basically it’s what David Eddings would have written if he still had any sort of talent. However, it has too many flaws to achieve anything more than a simple recommendation, but I have sneaky suspicion that I’ll think warmer of it when I’ve finished “The First Law” Trilogy (which I will attempt to do as soon as possible. I’m already some way into book 2).
7. 0 / 10 (strong)

Posts
Some would speculate that I gave it a “(strong)” grade because of the high quality of the paper and the lovely cover of this book. These persons are clearly mistaken
30. January 2008 @ 13:57 ( Permalink )
Seeing as every flaw you actually mention in this review was a tinytinytiny one, I’m assuming there’s more of them that you didn’t mention that slaps this down to the seven?
31. January 2008 @ 17:02 ( Permalink )
Well, it’s fairly unoriginal. Clichés with twists are still clichés, though a lot more fun to read. It’s also a bit repetitive - all Abercrombie’s characters have these catch-phrases that they continuously make use of in nearly ever situation; that gets old really fast. The book has a poor and unengaging beggining and the ending is nearly non-existent . The prose stutters at times, too, though the book is fairly dialogue-driven (the inner and normal type).
However, it’s so much of a setup novel that I was a loath to give it a grade. I would rather have graded the series when I finish “Last Argument of Kings” in March/ April, and I may very well bump tBI up then.
1. February 2008 @ 01:13 ( Permalink )
If dialogue is going on on the inside, unless telepaths are involved, I do believe it’s called “monologue”… ;P
Thanks for the reply!
1. February 2008 @ 04:29 ( Permalink )
Yeah, you’ve got a fair point, though the term “inner monologue” would be even better, seeing as monologue means that the words are spoken out loud
No thanks needed; should I overlook my only steady commenter? I think not., and the answer itself was a necessary addendum to the review - I skipped over much of the criticism.
1. February 2008 @ 14:12 ( Permalink )
Obviously. But you stated “inner”, and I never took issue with it, so I assumed it was strongly implied that when I wanted the word “dialogue” changed to “monologue”, I did not see any reason to remove the modifier. I mean, if I had, I would’ve commented on your use of “inner” as well, wouldn’t I? You’re not a mindreader.
As for “steady commenter”, I feel all ashamed now for how little I actually give you feedback on even when I DO comment. It’s just, it’s tricky - with the main part of your posts, i.e. your reviews (as long as it’s not about stuff I’ve seen (or, sadly way more rarely, read) anyway), I am torn between not wanting to read them at all because I almost certainly won’t have time to read the books or watch the shows recommended anyway and my natural curiousity (which killed the feline quadroped). And when I (usually) DO end up reading them, if it’s a negative review then I’m basically like “Okay, phew, don’t have to fret about not having time for this, then, yay” and don’t have anything to add, and when it’s positive, then I’m usually too frustrated about not having time for it to have the desire to read it again carefully enough to have some form of intelligent commenting to do on it….
But thanks for appreciating what little I write.
I know how nice comments are, I haven’t really posted anything in my weblog for weeks and I still check it every single day in mindless optimism that just maybe someone’s commented on some old post anyway… So I can relate.
1. February 2008 @ 19:25 ( Permalink )
Every non-spambot comment is appreciated, no matter their length. They’re proof that someone at least took the time to read through the post, or at least they glanced at it briefly, but at least it shows that they know my blog exists. Though I do admit I like the longer ones a bit more
Like I’ve said to you on earlier occasions; I would comment more often on your blog, but your damn spam monkeys keep shutting me out! That’s why I only bother going around them when I *really* need to say something.
Hopefully I’ll get around to some of the shows and films you’ve watched recently, so you can finally write that thesis-length comment I know you’ve been saving up to.
I await it with glorious trepidation.
2. February 2008 @ 09:30 ( Permalink )
I’m sorry about those damned dirty apes.
You could always start PM’ing me such comments on Tidshjulet, with a link to which post you’re commenting on? I’d like that tres much.
As do I your trepidation…
2. February 2008 @ 17:15 ( Permalink )
That would be at least as much work as going around the monkeys. I could, however, make myself an account at Opera. I think I’ll do that the next time I want to comment on your blog
Btw, Are Kalvø is coming to my school this or the next week. *Glee*
3. February 2008 @ 01:54 ( Permalink )
He was in Bergen recently too. Oddly, I didn’t care enough to go. :S
3. February 2008 @ 02:45 ( Permalink )
Also, yay, potential comments!
3. February 2008 @ 02:46 ( Permalink )
I’m really looking forward to it. We’ve only had two other authors visit my school. One of them had written a book about a girl and (!) sheep (*snore*). The other one had actually written fantasy, but she didn’t talk about that at all - she was more interested in pimping her latest book about some religious jerks who went to America (also, *snore*).
3. February 2008 @ 03:27 ( Permalink )
We never got ANY authors to come visit *my* schools.
3. February 2008 @ 04:21 ( Permalink )